


Love in an Elevator

by lokisballs



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 22:24:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4642314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokisballs/pseuds/lokisballs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Clint and Pietro get stuck in an elevator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love in an Elevator

Clint sighed as he rested his back against the cold metal wall of the elevator, watching his teammate press their floor button. It was unfair that Pietro didn't even look disheveled, while Clint was still trying to catch his breath after their training hours.

"Tired, old man?" the blonde smirked as he turned to face the archer. "Age’s probably catching up, you should consider retiring."

Clint doesn’t bother answering, he doesn't feel like keeping their usual banter up, especially not when there's water dripping down Pietro's hair to his torso because he'd poured a bottle of water on himself to cool off after their session had ended. Suddenly, the archer's hand itched for a bottle for himself.  
The elevator stopped, but the doors didn’t open. Clint was off the wall in a second, and he felt the speedster tense up by his side. 

“What’s going on, Friday?” Clint addressed the AI.  
“Mr. Stark says you two have things to figure out,” it answers, and Pietro groans. 

Clint was confused. What was Stark up to? He and Pietro were just fine. Of course, the blonde was an annoying asshole and more often than not, Clint felt the urge to put an arrow in the kid’s head, but he rarely followed up that thought. And when he did, Pietro catched the arrow midair, so. The archer got even more confused when the kid slid to the floor and sighed. “Fuck.” 

“I have a feeling you know what all this is about,” Clint muttered, sitting across from him.  
There’s no response, and the archer’s patience started to run out. “You know, we’re only getting out of here after we deal with whatever Tony thinks we should.” 

More silence, instead of the witty remark Clint was expecting. The boy looked conflicted, blue eyes squinting slightly, and even then he still looked gorgeous. Clint felt a wave of guilt go through his body, which was how he was always feeling whenever Pietro was in the same room as him. Sometimes when he wasn’t. The kid was half his age, but Clint had eyes.

“I went to him for advice this week,” Pietro started, and it took Clint a while to understand he was talking about Tony. The boy laughed bitterly. “A mistake, obviously. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”  
“Advice for… What the fuck are you doing kid?” 

Pietro had started taking his shirt off. Not that Clint couldn’t make out all of his muscles under his shirt on a daily basis – the blonde only seemed to own skin-tight clothes –, but seeing so much skin was something he was still trying to get used to. The boy was always running around shirtless these days, which was extremely unfair when it happened right after Clint woke up and before he got to have a sip of coffee.  
There was that day when he appeared just in boxers in the kitchen, sat by his side and brushed his arm on Clint’s in the process of getting a mug. Clint ended up gulping down his way-too-hot coffee out of distraction. He felt his tongue ache the whole day. 

“It’s getting hot in here,” was Pietro’s reply.

Staring at his chest, which was reminding him just how much of a kid Pietro wasn’t, Clint could agree. That did nothing on his patience though.

“I don’t have time for this shit, Pietro.”

Suddenly the blonde was all over him, hands on his shoulders and hot breath ghosting over his neck. It made Clint shiver, and his teammate didn’t miss it. He smirked and then his mouth was on the archer’s.  
If Clint said he didn’t imagine that a couple of times, he’d be lying. And it was exactly how he’d figured it would be, overenthusiastic and a little desperate, the stubble scraping on his skin feeling good. His hands found their way to the man’s white strands and pulled, and the kid outright moaned – and Clint just about lost it. But it was over as soon as it started, and when Clint opened his eyes, he was met with a tense man before him. He watched him carefully, as if expecting the archer to yell at him. 

“I mean, I appreciate being kissed, but I think we’re supposed to talk, kid.”  
“I’m not a kid, you know that. Also, I thought you’d be clever enough to figure things out by yourself,” Pietro slumped beside him, everything in him screaming nervousness. It was a stark contrast to his usual cocky demeanor.  
“You’re young enough, which is why we should talk this out in the first place.” Clint sighed and the other ran his hands through his white hair. The archer bit down the urge to substitute the boy’s hands with his.  
“I’m old enough to make my choices, you know.” 

Clint massaged his temple. He was right, he was an adult capable of giving consent, and maybe knowing that the attraction was mutual would make the archer stop feeling guilty for lusting after him.

“You ever thought about just coming up to me and asking me out on a date or something? This,” Clint points to the space they’re confined in, “wasn’t all that necessary.”  
Pietro was suddenly very close to him, looking exasperated. Clint could feel the heat radiating off of him. “Coming up to you? Well I tried, you’re just so fucking dense you didn’t realize it.”  
Confusion swept Clint’s face again. “What?”  
“All those times I was walking around shirtless? Brushing past you and touching you whenever I could? And I’m not even mentioning the flirting disguised as banter.” Pietro’s fingers were on his hair again, but they did nothing to tame the strands. 

It did make sense, Clint reasoned. And his sight was supposed to be the best in the world, huh.  
Pietro was buzzing with energy, his edges going soft. Clint touched his shoulder as if to make him stop moving, and the speedster took that as invitation for pressing fully against Clint’s side, slotting one leg between the archer’s. His dick was already taking interest. 

“I was getting tired of waiting for you to realize what was going on, so I talked to Stark. He said he’d handle it,” Pietro murmured right in his ear, and Clint shivered again. Damn that accent.  
Pietro’s mouth was on Clint’s neck in a second, and the archer mustered all his willpower to get the next words out of his mouth. “We need to discuss boundaries.”  
“We’ll have time for that later, Clint,” Pietro dislodged his mouth of him and Clint took that as opportunity to untangle himself from the man and rise to his feet, trying not to think about how perfect his name had sounded out of Pietro’s mouth. 

Pietro was goddamn pouting on the floor, so Clint offered him his hand and helped him up. He then held Pietro’s back, nails scraping lightly. He didn’t miss the catch in the boy’s breath.

“Later is now,” Clint said as he pressed the button to get the elevator moving again. “So, your room or mine?”

He was met with a brilliant smile.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've written in years, it's good to be back! English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes.


End file.
